


The Road Less Traveled

by GhostRequiem



Series: Come Find Me [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: 2012 Avengers is ours again, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers Tower, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Domestic Avengers, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Science Bros, Slow Burn, Stark Spangled Banner - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-01 06:13:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17861873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostRequiem/pseuds/GhostRequiem
Summary: Steve Rogers has a hopeless crush on the Tower's resident gamma expert.He knows this.Everyone else knows this. Well, except maybe the Dr himself.So what's stopping him?





	The Road Less Traveled

**Author's Note:**

> Edited:  
> Rating may change as I add more. Apologies for any errors, I don't have a beta reader.  
> Sometime after Avengers and before Age of Ultron.
> 
> I wanted to add fluff and happiness to the MCU because it definitely needed more.

_“Is that the only word on me?”_

_"It's the only word I care about."_

Steve mused over his mug of coffee at his first introduction to the physicist puttering around in the kitchen of their common floor. He tried to focus on the swirling shapes of his steaming beverage, and was reminded of a certain man’s eyes. He tried to shake the thought from his mind with a quiet cough.

“Is everything alright?”

He looked up to see Bruce adjusting his glasses and reaching to wring his hands together, stance tense. 

“Just fine,” Steve said, flashing a warm smile. “Just trying to clear my head.”

“How does breakfast sound? Would that help get your mind off the subject?” Bruce paused for a moment, placing a few cartons of eggs on the counter. “It’s my turn to cook team breakfast. Plus I promised Tony ‘some eggs with his cheese’.”

Steve chuckled as he stood, carefully pushing his chair back in. “Not sure it’ll help, but I’m happy to give you a hand with breakfast.”

In truth, he was right. They fell into a quiet rapport, cracking eggs, grating cheese, a large pan heating on the back of the stove. The sizzle of bacon filled the quiet, not that Steve minded. He appreciated that he was never forced to fill the silence between them. Bruce never asked inane questions, or grilled him about his past, and Steve hadn’t, either. As they moved around each other, picking up tasks the other wasn’t working on, Steve admired the doctor’s hands. For the amount of times he saw them shaking, cleaning off glasses, or nervously wrapped around themselves, Steve admired that here, where there was no judgement and no one else watching, Bruce was himself. He moved with surety; swift and to the point. Never too much force in breaking egg shells, deftly whisking yolk and white together. No energy wasted.  
Steve knew he had it bad. He was reaching the point of a crush where he accepted his level of pitiful admiration and at least ran with it. He tried not to corner Bruce, however; he had a feeling Banner would run rather than be confronted. So Steve satisfied himself with being awake in the morning to have tea (coffee for himself) with Bruce, being the first to offer a blanket to wrap around the trembling, post-Hulk transformation, sketching Bruce’s soft smiles secretly, and attempting to understand his scientific explanations. 

While Bruce scraped scrambled eggs around the pan, Steve began to set the table, sneaking glances over at the man in the kitchen. When the physicist bit his lower lip while flipping bacon, Steve swallowed and felt the flush creep up to his ears.

The elevator doors pinged and in swaggered Tony, coffee cup already in hand. 

“What’s up, Green Bean? Cap?” he grabbed a chair and perched on it, leaning it back on two legs. Bruce’s confidence was gone; in its place was meek Dr Banner and Steve felt his stomach sour. 

“Good morning, Tony. Get any sleep?”

“Nah, sleep is for the uninspired. I think I’ve got a better idea for the material of your Hulk-out pants, though.”

The two scientists bounced ideas off each other as the rest of the team arrived shortly after Tony. Clint and Natasha were already together and speaking in quiet tones as they stepped off the elevator. Thor wouldn’t be joining them; he was off-world at the moment. 

While Bruce began adding large plates of food to the table, Steve started a new pot of coffee. Tony had tried to show him how to use the machine he’d “improved”, but he preferred this simpler machine. Add grounds, add water, hit button. Easy. 

Stark poured himself another cup after Steve, one eyebrow raised at him.

“You feelin’ okay, Spangles? Running a fever?”

“Tony, I can’t get sick. What are you getting at?” Steve sighed. Tony grinned into his mug and gave a tug at his own own earlobe, turning back towards the table. Controlling his grip so he wouldn’t break another cup, he realized his blush must have not gone away. He studiously ignored Tony over the meal, despite the not-subtle shit-eating-grins he flashed Steve across the table. 

As breakfast wrapped up and they all began clearing dishes, everyone thanked Bruce for the food. He brushed off the compliments, insisting that it was just part of him giving back to the team. Steve busied himself with cleaning to avoid his compulsion to insist that the food was indeed delicious when he closed his hand over something warm instead of a dish. For a second, he was holding Banner’s hand as they tried to grab the same plate at the same time.

He let go, stammering apologies as Bruce flushed and scurried away with the plate. Steve knew his face must have been on fire, by the knowing look on Natasha’s face and Tony’s “I-told-you-so” face.  
Yeah. Steve had it _bad_.

* * *

_“Captain, you are needed on Dr. Banner’s floor.”_

Steve came awake swiftly. Since the war, he hadn’t slept deeply and most sounds would awaken him, JARVIS’ voice being no exception. He was out the door in his only his sweatpants in moments.

“What’s going on, JARVIS? Is Bruce okay?” Steve asked, sliding into the elevator and impatiently shifting his weight from foot to foot as it moved.

A floor-shaking roar answered Steve before the A.I. could. 

_“He made it successfully to the safe room before completely transforming, Captain.”_

As the elevator doors opened, Steve jogged down the carpeted hallway into the living room. The Hulk-proof room was off to the right, and Steve moved faster when the roars turned to saddened howls. He got to the reinforced glass window and felt his stomach clench at the sight inside.

Normally, when a nightmare triggered Bruce’s violent alter, he would be tearing everything Tony had put in the room for him to “play” with into handful sized pieces. At the moment, Hulk was wedged in a corner, away from the window, his enormous hands clenched so tightly that his knuckles were changing color. 

“Let me in the room, J.”

_“Captain, I would advise against-”_

“JARVIS. Please. Let me in the room.” Steve couldn’t take his eyes off Hulk. Even from the window, he could see the large green back heaving in sobs. He tore himself away from the window and walked to the door, praying he wouldn’t have to try to open them himself. The A.I. must have taken pity, however, and the doors slid open with a light hiss, just enough for Steve to slip inside before closing again. 

Once inside, Steve took a deep breath. There seemed to be a path of destruction directly to Hulk, and some items thrown around the room, but nothing like his usual triggering. He approached slowly, making purposeful noises by nudging items with his bare feet. He suddenly felt unarmored as he came up behind the giant.

“Hulk? It’s Steve. I’m here, buddy.”

The sobbing had been quieting as Steve had approached but Hulk didn’t turn around. There was a hollow banging sound, and Steve turned to see a frantic Tony at the observation window. He ignored his “come-back-here” gestures and crept forward, his hands up, palms out, like he were trying to soothe a frightened animal. 

“Hulk? I know you’re not okay. I’m right here.”

Hulk twisted around with a surprising swiftness. Steve didn’t fight him as he was wrapped up in what should have been a crushing grip, but instead just tight. He lifted Steve clear off the floor and brought him against his large chest like a Captain America teddy bear. The soldier’s heart broke as he heard the struggle to stop sobbing, Hulk pressing his forehead into Steve’s shoulder. 

Torn between caution and the need to comfort, Steve ran his hands through curly brown locks, making quiet soothing sounds. He didn’t try to say it was alright, or that everything would be fine. He wrapped his arm as best as he could around the back of Hulk’s neck, marveling at careful way he was held, despite Hulk’s reputation and distraught state. 

A chill went through Steve as he began to understand words through Hulk’s sobs.

“...Momma gone. He killed her. Gone…”

He fought his hands from clenching and pulling hair. Instead, he turned that furious energy to squeeze Hulk closer, wishing he could help at all. They remained that way for an unknown amount of time; long enough for the sobs and mumbles to quiet to soft whimpers.

Steve was jostled suddenly as he felt a tremor run through the body around him, muscles shrinking and bones snapping. He cringed, never being this close during a transformation, as Hulk shrank away and Bruce reemerged, gasping painfully and shaking all over. Steve was still holding his head to his shoulder, but had moved his arm under Bruce’s arm to help support his weight through the pain of his body reshaping itself. He pulled them slowly to the floor, encouraging Bruce to fold his legs and let Steve take his weight entirely. 

The doors sprang open and Tony ran in, clutching the shirt around the arc reactor and breathing heavily. He was trying to catch his breath, no doubt fighting an anxiety attack through his compromised lungs. 

“Steve! What the hell were you thinking?!” the engineer snarled softly. His eyes flicked from Steve to Bruce and worry won over anger. He embraced his lab partner from the other side, kneeling down on the floor with them. 

The pressure seemed to overwhelm the man between them and he began to sob anew. Neither attempted to shush him, just held tightly and let him cry out whatever had triggered him. When Bruce was eventually quiet, Steve and Tony pulled away. He had fallen asleep, most likely exhausted from the transformation and re-living the trauma. Steve hefted Banner up and into his arms, carrying him from the room.

“We should get him to eat and drink something. He’s gonna be miserable when he wakes up later, otherwise.” Tony mentioned quietly.

“I think he’s going to wake up miserable no matter what, after that." Steve sighed, gently rubbing his cheek into Bruce's curls.

Once they were clear of the safe room, Steve bent to place Bruce on the couch. As he pulled his arms away, a calloused hand caught his wrist. Bruce looked him with too-wide eyes and a choked whimper.

“I’m not leaving you. I’m going to grab a blanket,” Steve soothed. He kept one hand on the physicist's shoulder, and stretched to snatch a crochet blanket from a nearby recliner. He wrapped it around Bruce’s trembling shoulders, climbing behind him on the couch at the same time. Grateful that the serum had his temperature running hotter than most, he pulled Banner’s back to press against his chest.

Tony strode to the couch, a small carton in one hand and a protein bar in the other. He popped the carton open and Steve caught the scent of orange juice.

Bruce tried to pull away, shaking his head.

“Please try to drink and eat something. Hulk didn’t do much destruction, but I know triggered transformations are always harder on you.” Steve pitched his voice softer, knowing how close he was to Bruce’s ear. He felt a shiver in response as Bruce weakly reached out for the juice.

Tony perched on the last couch cushion, unwrapping the top half of the protein bar. He pressed the area around the arc reactor as if in pain, watching Bruce work on the carton. When his lab partner paused in drinking, Tony silently broke off a piece of the bar and handed it over. Steve remained quiet, keeping his breathing even in hopes of helping both mimic the rhythm. He traced shapes and patterns up and down Bruce’s arm with hand that was available; the other arm was firmly wrapped around his torso, anchoring him in the now. 

When food and drink were gone, Bruce folded, bringing his knees up and pressing his face into his hands. Steve forced himself to let go, despite the desire to pull the smaller man completely into his lap and cuddle him to slumber. Tony was leaning back on the couch, his head braced on the back cushion so he could stare at the ceiling.

“...nightmare?” the engineer’s soft question was reinforced with an equally gentle hand in Bruce’s hair. If Steve didn’t have enhanced vision, he wouldn’t have seen the slight nod. He caught Tony’s eyes, seeing the barely-concealed concern in the too-tight way Tony held his face. “JARVIS, let’s wash those bad dreams away.”

Bruce began to protest, but both men and AI ignored the self depreciation by getting comfortable on the couch while JARVIS turned on the TV and obliged them with a quiet movie. Steve adjusted himself to pillow Bruce as he began to nod off, and Tony added to the soothing warmth and pressure by draping his legs across the physicist’s lap. 

Steve brushed a hand against Tony’s shoulder behind Bruce. Tony’s eyes flicked from the screen. He raised a questioning eyebrow. 

“I know you don’t get much sleep, I can take watch here.” Steve offered softly.

“Nah, Cap. I’m worried too.”

“I’ve never seen Hulk cry like that.”

“...I have.” Tony grimaced, turning his attention back to the TV.

Steve felt a warm fondness filling him at his teammate’s stubborn will to keep Bruce safe. Tony startled as Steve pulled the blanket over him as well.

“Since we’re sleeping here, tonight.”

Tony’s smile was sad but genuine. He inched himself off Bruce and the couch, walking off into the dark apartment. Upon returning, he had another two blankets and an armful of pillows. After softening their couch nest and ensuring no one woke with a cricked neck, Steve and Tony settled in around the sleeping Bruce, ready to chase off any more terrors for the night.


End file.
